


The Chicken Incident.

by hogwartsjaguar



Series: The Incident When [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Holmes Brothers, Humour, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes Feels, Mycroft hates birds, Poor Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 11:09:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6852265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hogwartsjaguar/pseuds/hogwartsjaguar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were many things that Mycroft didn't like in this world. He didn't like brightly colored ties, or people singing in the bathtub or rubber ducks. But one of the things that he absolutely hated was chickens. Actually, he didn't mind chickens when they were cooked and covered in gravy. But other than that exception, he absolutely hated the bird. Or why Mycroft hates Chickens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chicken Incident.

There were many things that Mycroft didn't like in this world. He didn't like brightly colored ties, or people singing in the bathtub or rubber ducks. But one of the things that he absolutely hated was chickens. Actually, he didn't mind chickens when they were cooked and covered in gravy. But other than that exception, he absolutely hated the bird.

The main reason that he hated the bird was that Mummy had forced him and Sherlock to go to their relatives farm during the summer holidays. The reason for them going to the country, was that their parents were holding a big house party and they didn't want their darling little children to mess it up again. As the last time the Holmes family hosted a party, it ended up in disaster and that was just from Sherlock, who ended up spending the night in a dress and calling himself 'Sherleen' after he got a few drinks in him. And Mycroft on the other hand , almost had a middle-aged woman trying to get into bed with him and then he got into a physical fight with his brother and ended up falling into a cake, and then to make matters worse, Mycroft ate the cake and ruined his diet, again.

The moment that Mycroft had stepped out of the car and into the dirt path, he could tell that he wasn't going to have a good time in the country. Sherlock on the other hand was already inspecting insects on the ground and was taking notes on a bee that was resting on a flower.

Mycroft didn't like to associate himself with being related with farmers as to him, living in the country was the definition of someone who had a career burn out and they were too poor to live in the city. Why would you want to live in a place with no cars and interesting things? Was the first though that came to Mycroft's head every time when someone mentioned the countryside. Mycroft knew that he was definitely a city boy and he wouldn't have it any other way. Sherlock on the other hand looked as if he was clearly enjoying himself and he had only been in the country for five minutes. Mycroft decided that his brother was clearly an idiot for actually enjoying being in a place that was filled with animals and it was covered in the scent of manure.

After the insufferable amount of time spent on pointless greetings from family members who Mycroft didn't like to associate with himself with and spending time touring the countryside. The visit around the countryside ended up in a disaster as Mycroft ended up getting his brand new Italian leather shoes ruined when he stepped in a cowpat and then it didn't help that a bird ended up doing its business on him when he stood under a tree. Then it didn't help that Sherlock 'accidentally' pushed him into a river as apparently he looked as if he was needing to have some 'fun' as he looked as if he was having dull thoughts again. After being pushed into the water, the only thoughts that Mycroft was having was of murder.

After having to suppress the urge to murder his brother several more times during the night after Sherlock would even mention something about the countryside such as 'There is so many animals to research' and 'Mycroft, there is new mold!'

The statement that made Mycroft want to murder his brother the most was Sherlock's comment of 'I wish that we could stay here forever, home is so dull nothing happens."

"Why would you want to stay here?" Mycroft hissed. "This is like hell on earth!"

Sherlock was slightly taken aback from his brother's outburst as normally Mycroft kept a calm head on him most of the time, even when he was being insulted about his weight. "Nothing happens at home, we are stuck in the house most of the time as Mummy doesn't want us to get dirty."

"Well unlike you Sherlock, I like staying clean. You only like this place as you can do your stupid experiments on animal dung without being told off. I don't know why you would find this place interesting, there is nothing to do, and it is filled with bugs and the smell of animals. You must be an idiot to actually like being this place."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Mycroft, you are being the one who is being dull. Father told us to have a good time and you are not doing what he tells you."

"He also told you not to play pirates, but you still do that."

"I am not a child Mycroft!" Sherlock hissed. "Why do you keep bringing it up? I only do that for scientific research . And don't you forget it Mycroft, but you still play pirates with me. So don't act all high and mighty as you are not."

"Well someone has to be the mature one between the two of us. Also one of us is basically the British government, and they can blow up the whole of London at a mouse's sneeze."

"And yet you still fail at every single diet that you attempt." Sherlock snorted. "Mr Government Pants, why are you here? Couldn't you go and have a sleepover with one of your work friends?"

"I don't have friends. They are just are a part of my network." Mycroft said in a strained voice.

"That doesn't matter Mycroft. Why are you here?" Sherlock repeated. "You could have gone anywhere else, but you are stuck in the farm with me. Tell me the truth Mycroft."

Mycroft sighed loudly. "I didn't have anyone else to stay with, if you didn't know, I don't have many friends, I just have people to use to my advantage and that is it. And Mummy doesn't allow me to go to sleepovers. "

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. "Of course I know that you don't have any friends. It is one of the first things people learn about you and the thing with the rubber duck. Mycroft, If you haven't noticed already, I don't exactly have friends either, I just have a skull, and when you are not being annoying, you are my friend at a push."

"We have to be friends, Sherlock." Mycroft sighed, "We are related."

"I could disown you at any moment. I could just decide one day that I am bored of you and disown you."

"You wouldn't do that."

"What makes you think that I won't?" Sherlock asked.

"Because you would end up getting so bored of having no one to annoy, then Mummy would force to make friends and then you would get annoyed with them as they are not as clever as you. At least with me as being your friend, you almost have someone to compete with intellectually. But you know I am the clever one."

"I am going to let you have that insult as you got your shoes ruined. I hope that you enjoy the rest of the visit. Maybe you won't get your clothes ruined tomorrow."

Mycroft hummed in agreement. "Hopefully, I hope the same goes for you, little brother."

"I am not little anymore Mycroft." Sherlock protested as he yawned, "I am taller than you than anyone else."

"But I am older, so I am allowed to think that, as you are younger." Mycroft fell back on to his pillows. "I'd advise you to go and sleep now. Apparently we are going to 'work.'" Mycroft winced at the word. "And we are going to find out how country people do things without servants."

Mycroft quickly learned the next day that he wasn't cut out for farm work. He couldn't stand the early morning that was forced on to him by the stupid rooster, who had decided to perch on the window that was next to Mycroft's bed.

After his horrible awaking, Mycroft was given the task of feeding the chickens, to his most displeasure. He was envying his brother as he was given the task of helping in the kitchen, as Mummy had given the strict instructions of making sure that Sherlock didn't go near the animals, as last time he may have tried to bring a dead sheep home and then there was that incident with the goat, but that is another story.

Mycroft grumbled as the chickens crowed around his feet the moment that he stepped in the chicken pen. The moment that he started to drop the feed, the chickens started to cluck loudly and started to peck around the ground. Mycroft rolled his eyes at the chickens at how despite they were to get food. Were chickens that Stupid? Mycroft thought, as he watched the chickens run around as if their lives depended on how much clucking they did.

Mycroft dropped the bucket on the floor and let the chickens empty it, while he sat down in a corner of the pen and watched them. But after ten minutes of just watching the chickens running their appeal , so Mycroft started to play the game of 'Name the chicken.' Every time a chicken would come near Mycroft he would name it after a chicken dish.

Five chickens came up to Mycroft and started to peck at the ground and run about near Mycroft's feet. As each chicken went closer to Mycroft as if they were waiting to get christened with their new name. "Pot pie, Kentucky Fried, Tikka Masala, Roasted with gravy and veg," After naming four chickens, Mycroft started to struggle with naming a chickens as he had a limited number of chicken dishes. After a few minutes of going through every name in his head, he managed to come out with perfect name. "I'm going to name you Phyllis." Mycroft announced proudly. "You deserve a good name even though you are going to be dead soon and then people will only want you for your body." Phyllis squeaked loudly, Mycroft went through the last sentence in his head and winced at it once he had realized what he had just said. "I never thought that I would say that sentence." Mycroft muttered as he started to look for his brother just to make sure Sherlock was listening to him and recording him again. After the incident with the rubber duck, Mycroft had been rather paranoid that his brother was recording him at all times to use as future blackmail material.

"How does it feel that one day that you are going to be eaten?" Mycroft asked Phyllis as she clucked loudly. "You know that you are a stupid bird and even if you had a special ability you would still get eaten." Mycroft muttered as he stood up and picked up the bucked of chicken feed and started to leave the pen. "I will see you at dinner tomorrow!" Mycroft announced as he made his way out of the pen. As he walked out of the gate, he felt something hit his leg. Thinking that it was just a tree root or a rock, Mycroft kicked it thinking it would help it move. The item did move but it made a ear splitting squawking noise.

The next moment Mycroft felt pecking on his legs. He looked down and he found out that he kicked Phyllis and she wasn't happy. As he moved away from the angry chicken he found out that he was being followed by the bird. Phyllis started to chase after Mycroft and started to flap and squawk loudly, occasionally she would manage to peck Mycroft when he slowed down.

"You stop pecking me this instant you stupid bird!" Mycroft shouted as if he had the ability to communicate with chickens and get them to do his bidding. After being called stupid, Phyllis seemed to get more agitated and angry and started to flap her wings more and picked up speed. At that moment Mycroft knew that he was going to get killed by chicken and it was a rather embarrassing way to die. Mycroft always hoped that he would die from a political assassination or at least being blown up in one of Sherlock's experiments. But when it came to being killed by a chicken is a rather embarrassing way to die.

The chicken showed no sign of slowing down and every time Mycroft showed the slightest sigh of slowing down, the chicken would peck at any area on Mycroft she could get to, and that even included more private areas such as Mycroft's bottom, where he found out that he didn't enjoy getting pecked in there as it caused some discomfort.

The house was too far away for Mycroft to run too, but then again Mycroft only really did physical activity was when he was chasing Sherlock in the halls of the house after Sherlock had taken something of his or made another comment about his weight again. Mycroft decided that if he ever survived the chicken, he would take up running, just in case another incident like this happened again.

Mycroft felt his foot hit something again, he prayed that it wasn't an other chicken, as he really wanted to survive the week without being murdered by the chickens. Also Mycroft didn't have plans for dying this week as he had to go and pick up his umbrella from the shop. Mycroft looked up and found that he run into a large oak tree. The chicken had stopped running and looked as if it was going to peck something else again. Mycroft swore that the chicken was possessed by the devil or it was in fact the devil himself in the form of a chicken. Deciding that he wouldn't take anymore chances with the chicken, Mycroft started to climb the tree. If his old gym teacher could see Mycroft right now, he would have tears of pride running down his face, as at school Mycroft never did any sports and he would have a new doctors note every week for something such as a sprained nose or in one case menstrual cramps, it was clear that Mycroft wasn't that talented in the field of biology. The tree was difficult to climb due to the high branches and the bark on the tree was slippery as it was that smooth and it made it difficult to grip on to. But after many attempts of trying to climb the tree and nearly falling down the tree, Mycroft managed to pull himself onto a high branch that was near the top of the tree. The chicken remained at the bottom of the tree and was squawking angrily and was trying to peck the tree down.

"You are not going to get me down. Just give up you stupid bird!" Mycroft shouted from the top of the tree. "I am smarter than you and once I get down from this tree I will eat you."

"Mycroft, what exactly are you doing? I wouldn't expect to find you up a tree." Sherlock asked as he flipped himself on the branch so he was hanging upside down. "Is that a chicken that you are shouting at?"

Mycroft sighed. "Yes, Sherlock, that is a chicken that I am shouting at. And before you ask why I am shouting at a stupid bird is that I kicked it and called it stupid and talked about eating it."

"You are a really horrible person, you know that. No wonder you don't have friends." Sherlock commented as he picked up a betel and held it up against his brother's face.

Mycroft picked up the insect and shoved it in Sherlock's hair, he smirked when Sherlock started squirming as the beetle started to walk down his neck. "You do not touch my hair!" Sherlock growled as he lifted up his shirt and picked up the beetle that was crawling across his stomach. "Are you going to apologize for doing that?"

"Why should I?" Mycroft shrugged. "You were annoying me, and you put that insect near my face."

"You are such an arse, you know that? No wonder that chickens hate you." Sherlock mumbled as he picked up his jar of beetles and started to climb down the tree gracefully.

Mycroft looked down and realized that the chicken was gone, deciding this would be a good opportunity to climb down and get inside the house right before dinner. Looking down the tree, Mycroft found out that he had a problem. He didn't know how to get down. The branches of the tree were high up and there was few further down the tree that looked strong enough to hold his weight. The only option that he could think of was jumping out of the tree, but that was going to end up in Mycroft dying knowing his luck.

Maybe Sherlock could help him, Mycroft wondered as he saw his brother going back intothe the house. "Sherlock!" Mycroft shouted at the top of his lungs. "Sherlock, I need help!"

Sherlock stopped walking and looked at his brother and started to laugh hysterically, at his brother who looked as if he was close to tears. "Why should I help you?" He shouted, "I thought that you are meant to be the smarter one. Find your own way!" After saying that comment, Sherlock started to run back into the house and he started to think his new plan to annoy his brother.

Mycroft thought a few a new ways to murder his brother with just a bit of paper, as a way to pass the time until Sherlock came to his senses and decided to help him out of the tree. Even after a few hours Mycroft was still in the tree and Sherlock had shown no signs of coming back to help him. Mycroft wondered why his parents hated him and decided to have a second child, instead of having one perfectly normal child…Well then again he was stuck in a tree after an argument with a bird. Really his parent's didn't have a normal child, and Mycroft felt sorry for them.

A few hours later Sherlock had come back to the tree with a large bag of chicken feed in his hands. "Thank you for coming to your senses and deciding to help me from this stupid tree." Mycroftr called down. Instead of being a nice person and helping his brother down from the tree, Sherlock tore open the bag of chicken feed and threw it on the ground.

Seconds later at least fifty chickens started to crowd around the tree and started to peck at the ground. Phyllis the chicken was standing on Sherlock's head and was squawking at Mycroft from her perch. At that moment, Mycroft decided that he would quit his job in the government and just train to be an ninja, so he could murder his brother and his chicken army.

"Sherlock, move these stupid chickens from here and get me down from this tree." Mycroft shouted down the tree.

I don't know if I should help you," Sherlock said he picked up Phyllis from his head and held her in front of him. "Do you think I should help Mycroft?" He asked the bird. After a moment of silence from the chicken, Sherlock announced, "Mycroft, I will help you down the tree, only if you apologise to this lovely chicken and you will be my personal slave for the rest of the year."

"There is no way that I am going to apologize to a bird or be your slave." Mycroft yelled. "I am not going to stoop that low so you can help me. I'll find my own way down."

Sherlock shrugged and started to walk away from the tree with several chickens following behind him. occasionally Sherlock would come back to the tree with a item from the chicken enclosure and place it around the area of the tree. By the time it was nightfall, Sherlock had managed to build up a chicken enclosure around the tree and somehow managed to take the chickens from nearby farms and place them in his new enclosure. By the time Sherlock had gotten the two hundredth chicken in his enclosure, Mycroft had been in the tree for over twelve hours and didn't show no signs of wanting to come down.

Mycroft did come down the tree, without Sherlock's help two days later. Well by getting out of the tree, involved Mycroft falling out of the tree when he was sleeping and then he ended up getting pecked by over two-hundred chickens. But he thought it was better than having to lose his pride over the fact that he would need his little brother to help him.

After his incident with the angry chicken, Mycroft had developed a complete and utter hatred of chickens, it was so bad that he even refused to use the word 'chicken' in his vocabulary for two years.

Every year on his birthday and the anniversary of the now called 'Chicken Incident' Sherlock would fill the Diogenes Club and Mycroft's home, with chickens. Sherlock found it was surprisingly easy to buy chickens on the internet. It was amazing what things you could find on the internet.

But despite having his home filled with birds several times a year and the time when Sherlock almost tattooed a chicken on him when he was sleeping, Mycroft knew several more stories about his brother, such as when Sherlock decided to run away to become a pirate when he was sixteen, and the time when Sherlock ended up dying his hair bright green in a failed experiment.


End file.
